Bride in a Gilded Cage

He smiled. ‘Do you want to give these boys their heads?’

Isobel just nodded, incapable of speech, and followed Rafael’s lead as he spurred his horse into a trot, and then faster, into a full-on gallop. She could feel her own mount bristle and move restlessly, and, taking a deep breath, she urged her horse on until he too was cutting through the wind like a bullet.

It was exhilarating. Isobel hadn’t ridden like this in years—bent low over her horse’s back, feeling as though they were joined as one. She even pulled past Rafael, and felt a helpless gurgle of delighted laughter break out. But of course he didn’t let her beat him for long, effortlessly catching up and taking hold of her reins to slow them both down.

When she got her breath back Isobel could see outbuildings, and Rafael explained that they were training grounds for the polo horses. A man on horseback came to meet them, and Rafael introduced him as Miguel Cortez, head trainer.

By the time the sun was setting that evening Isobel’s head was spinning—but not in that sickly way it had the first day. It was buzzing with information. She’d found out that they hosted two world-class polo events there every year, and she’d looked at the plans Rafael had made to expand the grounds even further.

It was truly staggering. If her grandmother’s estate had consisted of just the polo grounds, it would have been seriously impressive. But to know that the estate went on and included a livestock farm, and then an agricultural centre…

She shook her head now, trying to take it all in, looking into the distance. She felt Rafael come to stand beside her, and her body made its predictable response. She avoided looking at him; in this milieu, with his urbane surface stripped away, he was far too devastating. Right now he was nothing like the person she’d built up in her head—the cruel and ruthless businessman who had no qualms about entering into a loveless marriage of convenience, almost welcoming it. Hadn’t he said that he was happy to be married to her? How was she supposed to fight that?

She felt unbearably confused. Up until now she’d always prided herself on being able to read people, but Rafael was proving to be quite the chameleon.

The pure joy she’d felt just a short while before made her too raw and exposed. As if she were betraying herself in some way. Her voice was husky. ‘Thank you for showing me this.’

She could feel him shrug a broad shoulder in response. ‘Like I keep saying, it’s half yours, Isobel. I’ve asked the helicopter to meet us and take us back to the house. Tomorrow I’ll show you the rest of the estate, and tomorrow night I’ve arranged for a barbecue at the house so that you can meet everyone.’

Isobel just nodded dumbly, her chest tight with conflicting emotions.

The following evening, back at the house, Isobel grimaced as she got out of the bath in her en suite bathroom. She ached all over from two days of being on horseback, but she couldn’t deny an inner sense of peace and satisfaction. Her mind shied away from thinking too much about Rafael, and how patient he’d been—showing her everything, explaining how it all worked.

When she looked at herself in the mirror a little later she grimaced. She’d put on clean jeans and a soft silk blouse. Not wanting to attract Rafael’s ire again, she opened up the first few buttons, having scary visions of him opening them for her if she buttoned up too much.

Her hair was still a little damp, but it would be dry within minutes. She emerged from her room and ran slap-bang into a wall of muscle. Rafael’s arms came to hers, steadying her. Isobel looked up and couldn’t move, her breath caught.

‘I was just coming for you.’

‘I know where the barbecue is, Rafael.’ Please move back—let me go, she begged silently.

Rafael moved back, but Isobel didn’t feel any safer.

‘All the estate workers have come up for the barbecue. Do you think we can put on a united front for one night?’

Isobel shrugged, feeling hot. ‘Of course. I mean…we are.’

He shook his head and folded his arms. ‘Not when you flinch every time I come near you or jump like a scalded cat every time I touch you. We’re meant to be on honeymoon, waking every morning in a tangle of bedsheets, limbs entwined and sated from passion spent.’

Isobel put out a hand, as if that might halt the flood of images his words had evoked like a lurid movie in her head. ‘Fine—whatever. I’ll pretend.’

He smiled smugly. ‘Good.’ He took her hand and Isobel fought not to jump, scowling when he said, sotto voce, ‘It really won’t be that hard.’

The following day, while Isobel waited in the Range Rover for Rafael to join her and drive them back to Buenos Aires, she closed her eyes with a feeling of desperation. Things were slipping out of her control completely. Last night she hadn’t slept a wink, her entire body tingling after an evening spent with Rafael glued to her side, holding her hand or snaking an arm around her waist, pulling her into him so tightly that she had felt her breasts pressing into his hard chest.

She’d felt as if she was in a permanent state of heat. Waves of it washing over her. And every time she’d tried to escape he’d merely teasingly pulled her back and pressed a kiss to her brow—or, worse, once to her mouth—sending her pulse rocketing to space. When he did that it was so hard to try and remember why she had to keep her distance and protect herself, and she was certain he knew exactly what he was doing. After the barbecue, when he’d insisted on leading her back to her room, the gloating smile on his face had told her he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

Now the insufferable man was striding towards the car and Isobel had to bring up every defence she had left just to be able to look him in the eye. But when he got in, he took out his phone saying, ‘I’m sorry—I’ve got to make this call.’

Isobel murmured something and felt a curious sensation of deflation. She half listened to a conversation that seemed to be with Rafael’s PA in Buenos Aires. It had something to do with the big deal he was working on in the States, and reminded Isobel of his ruthless business dealings. She’d forgotten.

When he was finished he cut off the connection and said, ‘I’m sorry about that. It was rude.’

Isobel shook her head, still feeling sick. ‘It’s fine. You’ve been away for a week. I can imagine there’s a backlog of work.’

She felt Rafael slide her a glance, and saw him notice the rosewood box she had cradled on her lap.

‘What’s that?’